


Opened Up the Doors

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Graduate School, Keith is there to help, M/M, Shiro is in grad school and he's suffering, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:10:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Exam week takes its toll on Shiro.  Keith is there to help him take a break.A nice, soft fic for all of you going through exams right now, especially those in grad school





	Opened Up the Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Uh oh, Boss tried present tense again.
> 
> I went through this like four times looking for slips, but if I missed any than please let me know.

The sound of the apartment door opening makes Keith look up from his laptop screen.  Pulling down his headphones, he glances down the hallway, trying to see the door itself.  But the angle from the couch is bad. One of these days, Keith is going to make good on his threat to move it.  Shiro insists the couch is good where it is, because there’s never a glare on the TV on that particular wall, and therefore the couch has to be opposite of it.  Keith thinks Shiro will thank him when they aren’t surprised by a murderer breaking in.

After a long pause, the door closes.  There’s no footsteps, just one loud thump, and then silence.

Keith waits.  The only sound is the rumble of the air conditioner and the tiny, garbled music coming from his headphones.

“Shiro?”

There’s another long beat, then a sigh.  Shiro steps out from the hallway and raises a hand in greeting.

Over their years of friendship and then dating, Keith has seen Shiro in a lot of states.  Caught in the rain like a drowned rat, startled awake at 3 AM by drunken students outside their window, wearing one of Lance’s face masks.  Keith treasures all of them, though he knows Shiro wouldn’t like it if he knew. He’s usually very well put together. Shiro cares about his image, in a way that Keith very much doesn’t.  He picks his outfits to match, he styles his hair in his very particular way, he uses treatments to make sure he never has spots. Shiro looks like a professional.

Usually.

Today is not one of those days.

Shiro’s hair is in total disarray, sticking up in the back where he collapsed in bed after a very late shower.  His eyes have deep bags, and the slump of his shoulder speaks of too many recent all-nighters. Worse than all that is the look in his eyes.  The exhaustion is more than bone deep. It’s soul deep, like a bruise on Shiro’s heart.

Frankly, he looks like a puppy rejected him and tried to punch him in the face.

“You okay?” Keith asks, sitting up straighter.  He finally pauses his music so he can put his full attention on Shiro.  “How’d it go?”

Shiro lets out another sigh that sounds dragged out of him.  He trudges over and sits down on the couch. Keith only barely gets his feet out of the way before they get squished.  “Alright. I think. I can’t tell anymore.” Shiro scrubs over his eyes. “I took half the test without remembering any of it.  I just blinked and it was half an hour later. I tried to go over it but I just… can’t. I can’t.” He looks over at Keith. “I can’t.”

Heart aching in sympathy, Keith puts aside his laptop and headphones.  “You can. You’re just a couple of days out. How many exams do you have left?”

“One,” Shiro says.

“Just one, then.”

“And an essay.  Two, technically.”  Shiro curls in on himself, elbows on his knees.  

Keith takes a deep breath, looking Shiro over.  “You know you have this, right? You’re so close.  Just one more exam, and I know that essay is basically done.”

“It needs so much editing.  I just can’t.” Shiro turns to look at Keith, a desperate light in his eyes.  “But it’s not just one more. It’s a whole year more. I’ll be doing this again next year, except with my thesis.  I’m a wreck now. How am I supposed to…” He cuts himself off, swallowing hard.

Ah, jeez.  Keith reaches up and grabs hold of Shiro’s sleeve, tugging him over.  “Don’t think about that now. Think that it’s just one more exam till break.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it!”  Shiro goes along with the movement, scooting farther up the couch until his butt hangs on the edge of the couch, hip pressing into Keith’s.  “I can’t. I keep dreaming about it, and everyone is talking about it, and half my classes are finishing up arguing theirs and they keep talking about topics and I don’t know if my ideas are something I can even write a thesis about-”

Shiro cuts off as Keith tugs him again, this time down.  He teeters, just barely resisting the pull, and gives Keith a confused look.

Keith continues to pull until Shiro moves.  He encourages him to lay down on the couch, his head on Keith’s chest, face down so he can’t see anything but the soft, faded gray of Keith’s old t-shirt.  Shiro’s fingers automatically move to Keith’s sides, smoothing away the wrinkles and pulling it back down straight.

Even now, his first instinct is to fuss over Keith.

It draws a smile to Keith’s lips as he holds Shiro tight.  “I get it. But breathe. Focus on the problem in front of you.”

“Don’t lecture me about focus,” Shiro mumbles, though it has a hint of humor.  “I taught you everything you know about focus.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”  Keith flicks him on the arm, and he can feel Shiro smile against his chest.  “What do you need to get done tonight? Absolutely must. No ‘should’, just what can’t wait.”

There’s a long pause as Shiro thinks about it.  “I need to finish the essay. Mostly editing, but I really should add a couple of sources and see if I can get it a little longer.  Right now I’ll pass, but I should-”

He cuts off as Keith flicks him again.

“I said no shoulds.  Try again.”

Shiro huffs, which makes the shirt flutter, then continues.  “Uh. Last round of studying. Go over my notes.”

Keith nods slowly, though Shiro can’t see it.  “Okay. So some editing and studying. That’ll take a few hours total for everything, right?”

“At least.”

“But you don’t need to get up right now.”  Keith shifts his legs so they bracket either side of Shiro’s hips.  Like this, their height difference is achingly obvious. His toes only barely reach Shiro’s, despite the fact that Shiro’s nose is trying to make a home in his shoulder blades.  “You finished an essay. Take a break, breathe. We’ll watch a movie.”

Shiro picks his head up, eyes wide.  “I can’t watch a movie right now. I have so much to do.”

“You just told me you could,” Keith says back, utterly unwilling to back down.  He sets his jaw and stares right back at him. “You can spare two hours. Then do what you have to and get a good night’s sleep.  But for now, I’m making you.”

For a moment, rebellion flashes behind Shiro’s eyes.  But then he sighs and drops his head back down, practically mashing his face into Keith’s sternum.  “I shouldn’t goof off when I’m busy.”

“This isn’t goofing off.  This is not getting so stressed you hurt yourself.”  Keith reaches over to turn his laptop screen back on, then takes out the headphones and pulls up Netflix.  The movie he picks is a silly musical that Shiro loves, though he rarely admits to it. It’s a goofy, slapstick, painfully optimistic mixture of noise and color that fills their tiny living room.

Once that’s set up, Keith slips his hand into Shiro’s hair.  He runs the tip of his fingers over the strands that keep stubbornly sticking up, trying to coax them to lie flat.  They resist every attempt, but at least it’s something to do.

“What about you?” Shiro finally asks.  “You have an exam tomorrow. You should be studying.”

“It’s that stupid lit class.  As long as I don’t tank my GPA, I don’t really care.  It’s basically a freshman class, it’s not going to be hard.”

Shiro lets out a grumpy noise.  “You should do your best anyway.”

In response, Keith tweaks his ear.  “Stop looking for excuses and just goddamn relax.  I’m not giving you a choice.”

Finally, Shiro sighs.  Some of the tension goes out of his shoulders, making him even heavier on Keith’s chest.  But it’s not uncomfortable, and even if it was, Keith wouldn’t move.

There’s no response, which is fine.  The reason Keith put on the movie is to give them both something to listen to.  When he gets to this level, all of Shiro’s pretty words and charismatic charm fall away.  He won’t want to talk, but leaving him alone in silence is the worst thing Keith can do. Given nothing to focus on, Shiro will think himself into an anxious state, and come out of the cuddle session even worse than he started.  But Keith’s not much of a small talker, even for Shiro. He’ll try if he has to, but it’s better for both of them to just put on something noisy and funny to listen to.

Instead, Keith focuses on Shiro again.  His fingers are still wrapped around one ear, so he starts to rub against the shell.  The top edge curls with the pressure, wrinkling like a very strange sort of thick lace.  Keith works his fingers against the skin, quickly becoming fascinated with the texture and physicality of it.  

Shiro gives a curious, low grunt, clearly wondering if there’s something wrong with his ear.  Keith just hums back, so Shiro relaxes back down again. He doesn’t try to protest or move again, which is telling.  Instead he nuzzles further in, fingers curling into Keith’s shirt, like he wants to climb through the fabric and into Keith’s chest.

He really has no business being this cute, but Keith isn’t going to scold him for it.

When Shiro’s ear loses its entertainment value, Keith moves his fingers to Shiro’s undercut instead.  The buzz is velvety to the touch, and parts and moves under his fingers as he strokes in slow, easy circles.  When Keith pauses, his fingers tingle like he can still feel the hairs moving past.

Inch by inch, Shiro’s breathing evens out.  It doesn’t quite get deep enough to signal he’s drifted off, but he loses the tense edge he’s carried with him for weeks.  Even in his sleep, Shiro has been restless lately. He gets bad stress dreams, though he doesn’t like to talk about them. The tossing and turning wakes Keith, since he’s a perpetually light sleeper.  Some nights he pretends to sleep through, letting Shiro collect himself in privacy without the guilt of disturbing Keith. Sometimes he gets up and tries to soothe him, either with warm drinks or just contact.  He’s not sure which one works better, yet.

Maybe Keith should push more.  Try to get Shiro to open up about what weighs on him. But Keith has never found that talking about it helps.  It’s not like speaking magically solves the problem. Making a plan does, or accepting comfort, or putting the issue in perspective.  Keith tries to offer than without needing to wring the story from Shiro. It hurts to watch him struggle, so Keith tries to help in the ways he’s good at.

Keith presses a kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, still silent.  He feels the smile against his chest again. Shiro’s hands slid up the sides of Keith’s ratty t-shirt, one colder than the other.  Keith’s first thought is that Shiro wants to push this in another direction, but the roaming hands stop. Instead, his fingers start to trace little shapes into the sides of Keith’s ribs.  At first he’s not sure what the lines and curves mean, but then he realizes that Shiro is just drawing out the alphabet.

“You’re edging close to studying right now,” Keith says, smiling into Shiro’s hair.

That earns him a snort.  “If that’s studying, then underclassman exams have gotten way easier since last year.”  He shifts, cutting off mid-way through writing the letter ‘q’. Instead, he starts to write down new symbols.  Numbers, symbols - an equation. “This is studying.”

Keith tugs gently on his hair. The strands of Shiro’s buzzcut are too short to really pull, which is just as well.  “Stop. I’m serious, Shiro. This is a no study zone.”

“You started it.”  But Shiro does stop, smoothing his palm over the spot as if it smear or erase the equations.  Instead, he starts to doodle, drawing what might be a cloud or a flower (they look very similar in the margins of Shiro’s notebooks).  

“I was teasing.”  Keith goes back to petting, this time running his hand down farther and petting down Shiro’s back.  The way Shiro’s fingers scrape delicately against the side of Keith’s ribs sends ticklish shivers through him, but he ignores it.  This could easily devolve into something sexual, but Keith likes where they are now. Moments like this are his favorite. He can show his feelings in gentle touches and quiet words, rather than through grand declarations or the press of their bodies.

Shiro lets out a little hum, nearly a purr. By now he’s nearly boneless against Keith, limp like a jungle cat on a branch.  “New soap?”

“I forgot mine when I went to the gym, so I bought a new pack.  This is what they had at the university store.”

“Eugh.”  He sniffs again, practically snuffling into Keith’s neck.  “I like your usual better. It’s not that bad, but I think that’s the you-smell.  You normally use Irish Spring, right?”

Keith nods, though Shiro can’t see it.  “Usually, yeah. It keeps mysteriously disappearing on me, though.  The other week I had to use that fruity crap Lance left last time he was here.”

“Soap gremlins,” Shiro says, not even bothering to hide the smile from his voice.  “They live in college dorms and apartments. You can’t trust them.”

“Yeah, that’s it.  Definitely. Your hair doesn’t smell like my shampoo at all.  Even though you buy that expensive stuff online.” Keith squeezes his legs, trapping Shiro’s hips again.

A chuckle flutters against Keith’s shirt.  “I like the smell of mine. But the smell of yours is nice when we’re busy like this and don’t spend as much time together.  It’s calming. Sorry. I’ll replace it next week.”

Oh.  Keith’s heart thuds so hard it feels like it impacts his ribcage.  His annoyance has been mostly joking, but any real irritation melts away from the warm glow that fills him.  “I don’t really mind. I just like teasing you.”

“I know.  But I should anyway.”  Shiro picks his head up and scoots forward, pressing his lips to Keith’s.  “Hey. I love you.”

Keith melts and smiles into the kiss.  “I love you too. Even when you’re stressed out.”  He pushes Shiro’s bangs out of his face. “Thank you.”

“I should thank you.”  Shiro cups Keith’s sides and offers a bland smile.  “You’re the one who’s been dealing with me lately. You have your own problems.”

Shrugging, Keith raises his brows.  “Most of my classes are projects and they’re already done.  And I don’t mind helping. Thank you for letting me in. For being vulnerable in front of me.  I know you don’t like it.”

Shiro’s eyes look molten in the light from the windows.  “I don’t mind it nearly so much when it’s you. I trust you.  With everything. Even when I’m in a bad mood or look like shit.”

“You never look like shit.”  Keith runs his thumb over Shiro’s cheekbone.  

“That’s a lie, but thank you.”

It is and it isn’t.  Shiro looks objectively worse than normal, but Keith can’t look at him and see the flaws.  He can see the hardships, the signs of stress, but under that it’s still Shiro. And Shiro is beautiful.  Not just in the superficial ways, but because he’s as kind as he is protective.

That’s not the sort of thing Shiro will believe, though, so Keith just nods to his laptop.  “Want to order pizza?”

“It’s going to be like a fifty minute wait.  Everyone’s ordering this week.” But Shiro gives a smile and nods.  “Yeah, okay. We can eat it after the movie.”

Keith goes back to petting Shiro’s hair.  “Sounds good. Now lie back down. Your time isn’t up yet.”

“Yes, sir.”  With that, Shiro flops back down, snuggling in outrageously.

As he pulls up the online ordering form, Keith can’t fight a smile.

It’s strange, but the hard times make their relationship brighter.  Stronger. In Keith’s experience, relationships crumble in the face of time.  People grow apart, or their little habits become less endearing, or arguments start to build.  It’s never been like that with Shiro. They started on shaky ground, but quickly blossomed into something supportive and warm.  Keith’s never known anyone quite like Shiro, which feels like a trap. Like he’s blinded by affection. The first few months were a waiting game for their first fight, or for the shoe to drop.  For the moment where Shiro decided to pull back.

It never happened.  They’ve argued dozens of times, sometimes to the point of yelling and storming out.  They’ve faced hardships, overcome relationship and personal problems alike. But Shiro’s affection for Keith has never waned.

There are times when Shiro holds himself back, or where Keith decides he should handle every problem alone.  They’re not perfect, but they work. Neither of them has grown tired of the other. The opposite, really.

Keith falls for Shiro more every day.  Especially when he lets himself be helped.

So Keith will be there for him.  From tragedies to hardships to exam weeks.

As many times it takes.


End file.
